Month: April 2018

Slogan Persuasive Telemarketer Pristine House Slippers by Sue Can Menace

In the most realistic of things, one could say advertising is just a staple of life. That we must endure its vivacious folly that totally insults our brains and integrity. This could be more of a deterrent causing one to stay away from media, however it does not. In fact, subconsciously, it makes you crave more. You will feel odd if you watch non-commercialized programming, missing that familiar tone of a commercial voice or quality in the background while you meld up some spew-age stew enjoying your brainwashed comfy kitchen décor that resembles that Nome and Farhan kitchen from a not too distant issue you were conned into subscribing to, thinking your home was not stylish enough for the status quo. When a commercial comes on, we either inflict our brains and psyche by sitting there watching the barrage, or we get up and check on the spew-age that may be over-boiling in our debt induced designer kitchen, still hearing the propaganda because the broadcast simply turns up the volume when a commercial invades your living room like an evasive/invasive blitz to your molded brain via your eyes and/or ears, knowing that some men/women will jump up, like programmed cyborgs to check on dinner. How do advertisers and programmers know this? Research and lots of it, that continue to conduct by selecting out of the many, but are the (so called) few for the Nielsen Ratings surveys! Oh boy, now I get to trash and endorse who I want for programming. Really, in actuality, they could care a less your opinion on programming. The just want to know your schedule and when is the best time you inflict your brain with televised indoctrinated scat.

Cushy Washee Bond Mohair Pews for the Living Room by Nina Pinta-Con-Zio

It can be almost like a good guy/bad guy routine, like good cop/bad cop, whereby, the brain melding series you watch insults you brain in so may ways, like “a doctor that is 12 years old operating on humans” or “that skinny model woman who is 100 lbs soaking wet is beating up 2 to 3- 200 lb + bikers” or “that under 20 years of age grand prix racer that learned how to drive on his laptop taking a formula one vehicle for a spin down a city street”. Are these events possible? Could be, however, not likely even in the most illusive sense of the fantasy. But they play the bad guy, making you feel you are worthless because you yourself cannot beat-up one biker let alone three, and why would you really want to anyway? Then, the commercial comes on, like a dream to encourage you that you could afford this sleek, beautiful, option packed suitor magnet, “so long as you want to go in hawk for the rest of your life vehicle”. Ah, yes the pleasure, the status, into the elite you will become! Meanwhile, in the driveway, rusts away your current dream gone nightmare vehicle that you still owe a couple years payments. Scenarios of grandeur seemingly entices us to watch and listen, however we should reject this and find some actual excitement in our life instead of virtual detritus.

In our daily lives, we seem to be led around like dogs on a chain, only allowed to run in controlled environments like shopping Malls or public restaurants/lounges that are experts on sucking up all the extra cash or credit you may have left for the week or two week period while waiting for that next paycheque. And usually, of course, you will feel obligated to give the server a tip to make up for the low wage the restaurant management is too cheap to increase, and will just fire the person before they want a raise anyway for some ambiguous reason, just good enough, not to have to pay severance. Exaggerated? I wish I was, but that is what makes all of this so spooky, because I am not saying enough. If I was, then possibly more people would listen. I guess I could exaggerate in the sense by glamourizing being brainwashed, but how would one do that and what would it look or sound like? Indoctrination City, where you, yourself, get to choose how we brainwash you. Yes, we have several brain shrinking plans for you to choose from and we can get it done for you in 45 minutes, or less. Just think, you will never have to doubt again whether you should climb up on that conveyor belt to clear up a jam without first disconnecting and locking out the breaker, you will just do what takes less time to please the boss! Just think of the time you will save with our Ultra Brain Honing Monthly Plan that will keep your brain shrunk continuously enabling you not having to watch TV so you can spend more time and money in supermarkets and shopping malls, staying in complete debt and knowing exactly what brands to purchase! The monthly plans come with a free frontal lobe trim! Shock treatment extra.

The In housed Organic High Wired Puddle Catch Tub by Just-in-a-Psych-Ward

In most cases, we all seem to dream about the lavish lifestyles that we could possibly aspire to, just by pushing ourselves a little bit more at work to maybe get that raise or promotion, or work endless overtime (sometimes for no extra money) just to get noticed for our sacrifices. Some of the lucky ones may get noticed, perhaps, but it is just a draw to keep you spending all your free time to make your employer more money, and when you stop that performance, because you realize they are not going to promote you or give you a substantial raise or even pay for the time they owe you for, they just fire your butt for poor job performance. There are some individuals that fight corporations, some of these people are high profile, but seem to also to get ridiculed or defamed when they reach a certain level of “truth”. Reckonable Causatum seems to be the most fitting phrase. However, there are so called truth media channels, mostly on Ewe-boob, and now, it is hard to decipher which ones actually are for truth in media, from the ones that are using it to get monetary payouts because of the advertising. Really, if one was really for the truth, they would avoid advertising like the plague. Even on Ewe-boob, you can publish and stop the advertising entirely, making your videos free of advertisements for your viewers. You do not get any money, but you can still do this and more people should because ultimately, this may turn the tide on Ewe-boob, giving it back to public for what was originally intended; a way to self publish videos to share with others. Look at it now. It is a three ring circus with an abundance of advertising endorsing clowns.

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Outside of Hily’s new apartment on the third floor of this older provincial styled 10 story building, the door opened and a different gentleman was leaving and closing the door behind him. About 10 minutes later, another man approached and knocked on her door, the door opened and he entered her lair. Approximately 20 minutes later, the same man exited her apartment and after about five minutes, another man was knocking on her door. This pattern continued throughout the night, until the sun rose, illuminating the dingy hallway near her closed door through the dirt encrusted hall window, diffused slightly by the tattered red laced curtains. Inside, Hily was counting her money, spread about the bed, still in her newly acquired lingerie, that now was soiled with drool the odd semen spot. Satisfied with her monetary collection and the amount, she quickly stacked it up and stuffed it all into a bag, then shoved it between the mattress and box spring. She grabbed her satchel that contained her stash and paraphernalia and immediately prepared and did herself a hit. After several minutes of enjoying the initial rush, Hily went into the bathroom and started to draw her bath. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Hily, who was peeling off her lingerie in the bathroom, while drawing a bath, wrapped a large towel around her plump, but well shaped torso, and poked her head out of the bathroom. “Who is it? I am not ready right now. Come back in about an hour!” said Hily as she held up her towel and listened. Not hearing anymore knocking, Hily closed the bathroom door, dropped her towel and climbed into the claw footed bathtub and started to wash herself with a large sponge. Out in the apartment, near the door, there was a shimmying sound, like the lock was being picked or opened by a key. After about 30 seconds, the door lock released and the door squeaked open, slightly ajar. Finally, the door was pushed open with this supple, well manicured, feminine hand with black finger nail polish, only to reveal Hily’s former campaign and still Public Relations manager dressed in a black business suit and black pumps with titanium spiked heels. “Ok people, get her out of there and cleaned up, and search the place thoroughly for any contraband. Make sure we get all of her belongings and take the linen. Make sure this place has no DNA traces.” commanded Hily’s PR manager. After several male and female agents swarmed into the apartment, Hily’s PR manager followed into the apartment and closed the door behind her.

Back at the Whitehouse, Mel was still sleeping in the master suite, half covered by purple satin sheets exposing partially, her nude form in the sunlit room. Just awakening, her first thought was about Donny and how he just took off to origins unknown. She also thought about Donny’s double and how he turned out to be a dud of a man, in hopes that he would be virile and masculine enough to handle such a person such as herself. As tears flowed from her tired eyes, she sniffled a bit and wiped them away as she sat up and grabbed Donny’s black terry towel housecoat. The very housecoat she bought for him last Christmas, but he never used. As she sensuously covered her immaculate body while extending into the long arms of the garment, she covered her breasts and tied the housecoat snug. While snivelling with slight sobs, she entered the adjoining bathroom and closed the door to take a shower. About 10 minutes later, she came out of the bathroom, redressed into Donny’s black terry towel housecoat. Still tearing, she composed herself a bit, and made her way to her vanity and sat down, crossing her long limbs, readied to apply her makeup. Noticing her eyes were reddened, she opened her vanity drawer and grabbed her eye drops, tilted her head back and applied a couple of drops to each eye, then blinking several times. Looking again in the mirror, she seen her eyes looked more normal now and placed the small bottle back into the drawer. As she was starting to apply her foundation, she thought about Donny’s request to fool around before he left. Normally she would of obliged without hesitation, because his eagerness to ravish her, made up for his base sexual knowledge and performance, which usually left her finishing the job herself, but was still satisfying to her ego, allowing for a more intense orgasm. She only denied him because he was high and she wanted to go out before she let him have his way. Being licentious, her mood drops rapidly and will get emotional, and more so, thinking about missed opportunities. Although she finished what Darrell (Donny’s Double) was unable to last night, she still was depressed knowing it would take some time before Donny returned.

In Rio de Janeiro, in a large hotel suite with plush carpeting and furniture, modern styled, mostly white and pearl shades and colors, somewhat sterile but pleasing to the eye, was Donny laying in the middle of the floor in his t-shirt and boxer shorts, faced down, spread eagled, with an empty champagne bottle in one hand, and a large breast in the other of a motionless young woman, about 15-16 years of age. Suddenly, there was loud pounding on the door, followed by a loud Latino accented voice. “It is checkout time. Please! I will give you 20 more minutes before I enter the room by key!” said the Hotel manager after being alerted by the maid there were still people indecent in the room. A little later, Donny’s eyes opened, directly looking at the young girls body as he started squeezing her breast, suddenly awakening her. “Please, no more, you want more you have to pay.” said the young Latino girl as she removed Donny’s hand from her enhanced breast, getting up and gathering her attire scattered about the room. Then, loud knocking started again on the door. Donny got up, took a drink from the empty champagne bottle, realizing it was dry, then dropped it on the floor as he stumbled towards the door. Finally reaching the door and the knocking getting louder, Donny started to unlock the door to open. “Ok Justin! What? Did you lose your key again? You Canadians, I tell you…” said Donny opening the door only to see three local police officers. “Where is Justin? What do you want?” asked Donny now confused but realizing he was alone, minus the fact that an under aged local girl was now standing behind him naked, holding her attire motionless, gawking in fear at the police. Two of the police immediately grabbed Donny, pushing him faced down to the ground, and handcuffing him. The other police officer gently grabbed the young girl. “Por favor, vá ao banheiro e se vista. Vamos precisar do seu ID e uma declaração.” said the officer guiding her to the bathroom. The other two officers pulled Donny up roughly. “Reúna suas coisas e objetos pessoais. Nós nos encontraremos mais tarde na estação.” said the lead officer as they pulled Donny along out in the hall in his underwear. “Hey boys, where you taking me? That is my, uh niece! I was just helping her , uh find her suitcase! Let me go, I am innocent!” exclaimed Donny as they dragged him down the hallway. “Cala a boca, seu pervertido. Vocês americanos vêm aqui pensando que nossas mulheres e meninas são suas prostitutas privadas! Bem, o juiz terá suas bolas por isso!” commanded the lead officer as the other officer chuckeled in amusement.

To be continued in a possible “castração” resultant of the mis aced aventura….